


Afternoon Tryst

by girlofgold



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlofgold/pseuds/girlofgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya and Myrcella are openly together, but are still being secretive. As much as Arya doesn't mind being Myrcella's openly dirty little secret, she cannot help but mark her mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Tryst

Arya lets out a sigh as she watches her lover push back the bed sheets. It’s always like this, a game of secret trysts and kisses between classes. Not that she minds, really. Arya is comfortable in the shadows, keeping to herself, watching everyone from afar. Sometimes, though, she wishes it didn’t have to be so complicated.

“You could stay,” she offers, her eyes following the girl’s back as she makes her way over to Arya’s full length mirror. She adjusts her golden curls as best she can to hide the sex hair she always ends up with. The afternoon sun shining through the partially obscured windows accents the yellow hue, turning the typical yellow to golden from her vantage point on the bed. “The only one whose going to be here today is Robb, and you know he doesn’t mind.”

Myrcella’s eyes meet Arya’s in the mirror. “He’s the only one who doesn’t,” she replies with a smirk. Arya supposes her own devil may care attitude has rubbed off on the blonde.

Arya lies back with a pout, knowing she won’t get her wish this time. They’re both equally stubborn in their own ways, which Arya enjoys. She takes pleasure in watching Myrcella dress, covering up the love bites Arya’s left on her skin—the one on her shoulder, just barely able to be covered up by her curls, is Arya’s favorite today. Too preoccupied with her staring, Arya doesn’t notice Myrcella observing her.

“You know, my mother hides a smirk every time she sees what you’ve done,” Myrcella informs her, laughter ringing in her voice. “I think it’s because she is under the illusion that a _proper_ lady that would never show affection in such a way, so obviously I’m cheating on you with someone more… _appropriate_.” 

“Your mother is a twit,” Arya declares with a roll of her eyes.

Myrcella doesn’t respond. They are both well aware of their own parents faults. Instead, she walks back to the bed and kisses Arya chastely before sitting beside her to put on her heels.

“I’d show you out,” Arya says a little while later, when Myrcella opens her bedroom door, “but there are too many windows, and I don’t feel like dressing just yet.”

“Then it’s too bad I can’t stay,” she hears Myrcella call back from the hallway, her voice loud enough to be heard through the closed door.


End file.
